


Fire Under Your Feet

by daswindkind



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow To Update, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-23 19:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2553566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daswindkind/pseuds/daswindkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running out of places to run from or to, you are hired as a Scout for TF Industries. Seeing it as a mere pit stop to get out of prison you accept, but unforseen complications force you to stay longer than anticipated. Unwilling to participate in what is happening around you, you make unlikely friends and may find a reason to stay after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly have no idea how this will turn out, but I thought I'd give it a try anyway. If characters ever seem too OOC - please let me know, I'm terrible at picking something like that up.

Freedom was something which meant a lot of different things for different people. The freedom to be themselves, the freedom to do what they wanted, the freedom which a wide open space presented them with. For you it almost meant something similar. For you, freedom was to be without shackles, without weight, without responsibilities. The wind on your body when you ran, the calculating of routes in your head to ensure that you never had to slow down unless you wanted to and the burning in your lungs. You longed to be free, to run and run and run, but it was the cities which you craved, not the open road. Man-made structures which only seemed to be there to slow you down, an obstacle an open road would never offer and something that almost screamed at you in challenge.   
  
Compared to cities, open landscapes gave you nothing. It was the small alleys, the rooftops, the decaying structures which gave it all meaning. To still move as fast as you could, overcoming obstacle after obstacle. Usually people felt oppressed by the large, lumbering and unmoving buildings, the hustle in the streets, the darkness of impasses. They longed to get out of there, to at least retreat to the suburbs. For you however it was liberation, for you it was freedom. Especially after you had realized that there was nothing the cities could throw at you that you couldn't overcome. There were no dead alleys for you, only opportunities. Running, sprinting, jumping. Whenever you felt the rush of wind in your hair and the burning in your lungs and muscles you felt at ease with the world.   
  
Always having longed for your own form of freedom, there was hardly anything that could keep you from it anymore. No cuffs, no bars, no fences were enough to hold you. While running had come as naturally to you as breathing, escaping had been something you had to train yourself in if you wanted to keep your freedom. By now no locks, no doors and no walls could keep you back anymore. Sometimes you had learned because you had felt like it, sometimes you had to learn because there had been no other way.   
  
These days you prided yourself in being not just a natural runner, but also a natural escapist. And that had been how the jobs had come pouring in. And combining your lust for freedom with money came too easy. Your eagerness to run and move you started combining with transporting. What you transported you never asked. Climbing and twisting and jumping rooftops were combined with breaking in and stealing. What you stole never interested you. And escaping through bars and over walls you had learned was the most sought after and well paid. Taking the fall for someone else - whatever it was, you never really bothered about - only to escape prison whenever you felt like it, only to be caught again when you needed a break from the world. It had become second nature.   
  
You had killed your fair share of people over the years, but it had never brought fulfilment or enjoyment. While payment may have been good when compared with your other abilities, there was no pride in it. So far it had only been in self-defence. One time even in revenge. But even if people came to you with good money in exchange for an assassination, you usually declined. There was more freedom in the other jobs you did. A heavy conscious would only slow you down.   
  
While you felt most at peace with burning lungs, there were times when you grew bored. Almost listless, as if you had overdosed. Those were the times when you accepted to take the fall for someone else. It had been a while since someone tried restricting you with simple bars. But you needed it, you needed to feel trapped only to once again appreciate the small alleys and rooftops calling for you.   
  
  
  
It was in Detroit where you let herself get caught, the cuffs rubbing against your wrists as someone escorted you into the small room. You had familiarized herself with the accusations against the person you would be taking the fall for. Knew what to say, knew what you had supposedly done. But expecting to see the familiar face of the court appointed attorney in the interrogation room, you stopped in your tracks when your eyes settled on the woman seated at the table.   
  
Your brows narrowed in irritation, this wasn't the time for any complications, but you complied when the escorting police officer pushed you towards the empty chair. "Who are you?", you asked as soon as she seated herself, idly playing with the cuffs around your wrists. Neat black hair, glasses and lavender dress - only smiled sweetly as she slid a business card across the table. Brows still furrowed, you studied the card. *'Ms. Pauling, Assistant, TF Industries'*, was all it said and you felt your jaw click in annoyance. "I don't understand, Miss Pauling. What do you want?"   
  
"We want to hire you," she answered, a smile on her lips which reminded you more of a shark than an innocent assistant. "For Reliable Excavation Demolition. In short RED." Cocking your head slightly, you started feeling uneasy under the woman's eyes. "You would be in charge of rapid recovery. As I understand - running and evading are your specialty. Over the years your crimes seem to have added up, adding more and more time to your sentence. Especially if you keep escaping every time. As I understand you were already under a 25 to life sentence the last time."   
  
"Miss Pauling, while I appreciate the offer, I am perfectly fine with where I am right now. I seem to have noticed the error in my ways and am okay with atoning for what I did.", you found yourself answering, a glint of anger in your eyes. Something was throwing you off, something was telling you that lavender dress was dangerous. "You are only planning to escape again, are you? And start it all over again. Almost always two years until you get tired, let yourself  get caught for some crime that doesn't seem to fit your MMO, serve a few weeks or months until you're gone again.", Pauling summed up and you merely shrugged your shoulders. "We can offer you a far more interesting way to atone for your sins. You come work for us for five years and after your contract is up you are free to do as you will. A clean slate so to say. No open warrants for your capture, no record of your person. And enough money to do with as you please. We offer you the guarantee of freedom after this. If you decide to stay here however, who knows how many more prisons you can manage to escape until you're trapped for good. Until the urge to run makes you itch until you claw at your own skin?" Lavender dress smiled once more. She did seem to have a point.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dozing off at some point you had curled up next to the window of the prisoner bus. The heat was a slap to the face, but the cool of the window kept you distracted. The air in the small bus was humid, having plastered your clothes against your body when you fell asleep an hour after leaving your state.

You had signed the contract not shortly after the visit from Miss Pauling. Breaking 'out' from some job in the desert seemed a lot easier when you had thought about the high security prisons. The woman in the lavender dress had been right. How many more prisons would you manage to escape until you were finally trapped? Escaping from wherever she decided to bring you seemed a lot easier. 

A screeching and the sudden stop of the bus managed to wake you up almost instantly, your body already in a flight or fight response. Only when you were able to place your surroundings - the bus, the desert, the heavy shackles around your wirst - your body eased up. Your fingers had already done their part, freed you from the handcuffs the moment you even stepped into the bus. Finally slipping them of your wrists, you didn't wait for the guard getting up and heading for the door of the bus. You knew this was your stop, the color of lavender outside having caught your eye.

Pauling only gave you a look of anger when you excited the bus, stepping around her. So far the air had been too humid, but the second you got off, you felt the true impact, the arid air hitting you full force. You had never been one for the dessert climate, the heat easily becoming too much for you and impairing your abilities to run. But you knew that you weren't going to stick around for long so you mustered a smile into the direction of Miss Pauling. More defiant and challenging than anything. If she thought that she held all the cards, it was fine by you. The more people underestimated your lean figure, the easier it was. 

 

The next hour was spend with reading and signing even more paper work. Apparently there was more than just the contract she made you sign earlier. You decided to ignore most of it, casually flipping through the pages as you signed each, indicating that you had understood. You had already decided that you'd stay for a while if it turned out to be a nice gig, if not you'd be out of there in no time. That the place was in the middle of the desert, surrounded by basically nothing was only a slight inconvenience. 

Pauling had started explaining what exactly you were supposed to be doing here when she noted your disinterest in the contracts in front of you, but you drowned it out as well. "(First Name)!" she finally called out loud enough to make you look up. "Sorry, what?" you asked, obviously having missed something important and earning yourself a groan and roll of eyes from the woman opposite you. "Nevermind," Pauling answered annoyed, "care for a glass of water?" she added already filling a glass from a carafe standing next to her. You nodded slowly, taking the glass from her eagerly. Slowly the heat was getting to you and dehydration was always dangerous in your line of 'work'. 

Almost emptying the glass you signed the last page after putting the water down. "Is that all?" you asked and let out a sigh of relief when Pauling nodded, taking the last signed contract from you. Your hand was already cramping and you realized that this was probably the most you've written in years even if it was just the signature to your current identity. "What's next?" you asked Pauling after a while, rubbing your hand. Somehow your fingers had started tingling and your head felt like it was filled with cotton. "What the -" you barely managed to say, the room and Pauling coming in and out of focus. "A few medical procedures such as the implant of a GPS tracker," the woman smiled sweetly and you tried getting up, almost throwing over your chair as the room spun. "Which you already agreed to if you would've read what you just signed. The sedative is really just insurance for us." In your mind you were screaming expletives at the woman opposite of you, but your voice failed you as the room went dark. 

 

 

You could hear voices in the background but couldn't make out who they belonged to or what they said. Your limps felt heavy, your head pounding and there was a sharp pain at the base of your neck when you tried moving your head. Laying on your stomach it took you a while to clear your mind and a few tries until you managed to lift your hand, fingers trailing over gauze on your neck. Memories were coming back to you slowly. They had implanted you with a tracker, something that definitely made things more troublesome for you. The voices stopped and you could hear the sound of a door. "You're coming around," you heard the familiar voice of Miss Pauling and she entered your sight with a smile. "I'm sorry for this, but you did sign the contract, you know? We had to take a few precautions - especially for someone with your history. There isn't anything else around here to keep you from leaving after all," she started explaining and you groaned, carefully trying to sit up. 

"We had our Medic perform the small operation and it should heal within a few days. Do not attempt to remove it, seeing as the chip has been attached to your spine, you'd only endanger yourself. Next to providing us with your coordinates, it also measures your vitals and is essential for respawning," Lavender dress kept explaining. You had trouble following, your thoughts still too muddled to understand everything. Apparently she caught your look and nodded slowly, "it will make sense soon. Now follow me, I wanted to show you the rest of the facility before the RED Team returns from the field." 

Your first few steps where still shaky as you tried following Miss Pauling who was looking at you, obviously annoyed by how long it took you to shake the sedative. She didn't wait for you any further when you finally reached the doors, following her down the corridor on unsteady feet. You followed her down an almost endless corridor to an elevator. Using the break you leaned against the metal wall, realization slowly dawning on you. If what Pauling was telling you was true, which apparently it was according to the pain emanating from the back of your neck, you were truly and utterly fucked. There went your plan to only stick around for a few days to catch your breath. 

The elevator ride was short enough not to let you fall into a state of panic and you followed Miss Pauling out, noting with furrowed brows how the elevator doors disappeared behind wood panels. "You probably won't be seeing that part of the facility again until your contract with us runs out. This will be your home for the foreseeable future," Pauling explained after she saw your expression and made a gesture towards the room. It almost looked worse than your last apartment in Detroit but it certainly wasn't anything you couldn't get used to. The living room still looked cosy and you could see the kitchen and a large table next to it. A small TV at least promised that you weren't completely cut off from the outside world and right now you decided that it was best to be thankful about the little things. 

Miss Pauling however didn't have to know that and you huffed in fake annoyance as you took in what appeared to be the living area. "Private quarters are down that way," she pointed towards a dark hallway leading away from the room and you nodded in acknowledgement. "You have your own room, as does everyone. There are no names here, so you'll find it under 'Scout' which will be your designation from now on. Please do adhere to that rule." You nodded slowly, wondering where exactly you had landed. "We did manage to find a few things in your old flat in Detroit and allowed us the freedom to move them here. To make the transition a little easier for you," at this comment you looked up in question, from what you remembered you hadn't left anything important there. You never did. You had stopped putting emotional value into possessions a long time ago. 

"Down the other hallway you'll find the locker room with your combat gear and weapons," Pauling continued explaining and you shot her a questioning look. "Weapons and combat gear? I'm afraid I don't understand," you asked quickly. Maybe you should've listened to her back at the office. Or at the prison at least. Seeing your confusion she answered with a smug smile. It became painfully aware that she knew that you hadn't been paying attention because so far you had thought that you could get out of here easily enough. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see, don't you?" Yes, you managed to annoy her and now she was paying you back. "The rest of the team will return shortly. I suggest you befriend them. Your lone wolf behaviour will only get you killed more often, drawing their anger for your incapability." Wait - getting killed more often, what was Pauling talking about? Before you could ask, the woman had turned around on her heel and activated a hidden panel which opened the elevator doors. "Do what you do best and you'll be fine," Pauling added before the doors closed and you were left alone. 

Panic gripped you once again and you steadied yourself against the old sofa. Wherever you landed up this time, certainly wasn't good. Why didn't you pay attention earlier? Why didn't you listen to your gut feeling back at the prison? Now however it was too late and you were fucked. You couldn't panic though, you had to figure out a way out of here sooner than later. Your feet carried you through the decrepit building, investigating the different rooms trying to keep yourself from breaking down. The thought of getting out of there as soon as possible was what kept you going.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly walking through the base, you familiarize yourself with the building and it's rooms. The Kitchen seemed well stocked with only a few things apparently marked for specific people. They seemed overly fond of alcohol, something you could get behind somehow. You took one of the beers, twisting the top and throwing it into the sink. It didn't look like they expected you to do anything else that day and you would take anything that could calm you down.

Now that you were paying attention, the things around the room were certainly telling stories about the people that you were going to spend extensive time with. Weapon magazines on the couch, empty bottles of whiskey next to it. A bunch of tools on a wobbly looking table and an overflowing ashtray. Someone had put up old pin-up posters on one of the walls, they had long been decorated with amusing scribbles.

Taking a sip you moved on in the direction of the locker rooms. It looked even worse than in the living room and kitchen, a few of the lockers standing open haphazardly. Dirty clothes were covering almost every surface and you moved along until you found a closed locker with your new name on it. Someone had punched it and it took you a few tries to open it. There wasn't much in it, only a few old magazines and an old baseball cap. You took another sip, leaving the room again and sidestepping dirty clothes.

Next you wandered down the other hallway, passing the doors that led to private quarters. Some weren't marked at all, some rather eagerly so. Your room was one of the last, only a small strip of tape with 'Scout' scribbled across it hastily indicating so. Fearing what kind of things Pauling had brought over from your old apartment and seeing what kind of hellhole you were going to spend at least the foreseeable future at, you hesitated. You groaned before you finally opened the door, beer in hand.

It wasn't as bad as you had thought. While rather spartan, you were used to that. A small bed in the corner, another pair of lockers and a small desk with a chair. The small window above the table however made you frown. It was too small to provide for an exit if things went south. Combined with only the one door at your back, it certainly wasn't your favored sleeping arrangement. A few boxes were standing next to the door also hastily marked with 'Scout'. You took a few more sips before you opened the top one. The box was filled with clothes and you recognized them as your own. It was mostly practical things you wore for running. Fair enough.

Leaving your room behind you slowly made your way back to the living room, dumping the empty bottle next to an already growing collection on the counter. You replaced it with another one, sitting down on the counter as you heard a loud banging from one of the hallways immediately followed by even louder voices.

"- you damn maggots -"  
"- wouldn't have happened if you wouldn't have -"  
"- mmmph mph-mph mmph -"  
"- shut your mouth, mate -"  
"- oh, bushman. We'll settle this -"

The voices grew weaker and you guessed that they had retreated to the locker room. You took a large sip from the beer, more for courage than anything. Where exactly did you end up again? A shadow fell over you, making you look up. A man in a pinstripe suit and balaclava was leaning against the fridge, watching you as he pulled a cigarette case from his suit. "Mon chéri, our new Scout I presume?" He asked, lighting the cigarette. You nodded slowly in response while taking a sip from the beer which was almost empty already. "Allow me to introduce myself before the halfwits show up. I'm Spy." You nodded again and earned yourself a smirk. Before he could address you again, the argument grew louder again. One by one people started filtering into the living room, stopping and falling silent when they saw you sitting on the counter. 

"I guess I'm your new Scout," you finally said into the silence. Lifting the beer as if to toast and taking a sip, using the second to give them all a once over. Describing the different individuals as - eccentric was putting it mildly. Once again the question was - where did you end up here? 

Spy took over introducing them as they filed by one by one, scattering themselves over the living room, a few stopping at the fridge to get a beer themselves. It gave you another chance to look them over. Tan and dirty, they looked like they had spend the entire day outside, the tan suggesting that it hadn't been just today. A few had traces of blood on their faces or in their hair. They all looked exhausted and apparently pissed off about something. They gave you mistrusting looks as if not entirely sure what to do with you or as if they haven't even been expecting you. 

"Private Scout - Soldier," one of them finally introduced himself and the others started chiming in slowly. A few of them more enthusiastically than the others. Behind their 'names' was certainly a pattern you were starting to notice. Demoman, Engineer, Heavy, Medic, Sniper and an indecipherable murmur from someone with a black gas mask which was quickly translated as Pyro by one of the others. 

You took a free seat on the large kitchen table among the people that had introduced themselves as Engineer, Demoman and Heavy. Spy had long disappeared as quietly as he had arrived earlier. The rest had either gone as well, or settled down on the couch unwilling to talk or still angry about whatever had happened. 

At first you just listened to them, trying to learn about their personalities. You brought yourself in from time to time, careful as not step on anyones foot while still gauging their reactions. They seemed an easy enough bunch. Engineer was soft-spoken with intelligent eyes hidden behind his goggles. The Demoman was almost the opposite, loud without holding back and chugging an impressive amount of alcohol. Heavy however you had trouble placing. His accent was heavy and he didn't seem very big on words, reminding you more of a gentle giant than anything else. But his movements spoke of hidden violence as did his eyes. 

The longer you sat, the more you drank with the three men. After a while you started participating more actively in the conversation, easily settling into comfortable topics. You never had trouble with conversation even if you felt intimidated by the others. You had dealt with enough shady people and corporations over the years, especially considering your occupation. It had come with the territory. From time to time you got the feeling of being watched. Turning your head ever so slightly you noticed Sniper staring at you as if trying to seize you up. You didn't blame him, you were guilty of the same. 

When the conversation became more quiet by the minute, you excused yourself with a small nod. You had no idea what the next day would bring and even if you weren't exactly tired you needed some time to collect your thoughts. Taking another beer from the fridge you headed to the hallway and your room. Your steps were slow, still trying to get a feeling for the place until you noticed something you hadn't seen earlier - a steep ladder almost hidden in a corner. 

Curiosity got the better of you as you ascended the ladder. The wood panel opened with a creak and you let it fall closed behind you as your eyes slowly adjusted. An old mattress lay in a corner, along with magazines a few wooden boxed, an old bottle of rum and other things. Almost looked like someone lived up here. A large glass-less windows let you see the entirety of the base once your eyes had gotten used to the darkness. 

If it didn't look like someone was staying here from time to time, you would be more than thrilled to claim it yourself. While it looked like it could get rather cold from time to time, especially in the dessert the old lookout had a certain appeal. Especially if it meant a quick way to get out when it came down to you. 

A creaking sound from the ladder ripped you out of your thoughts. You reacted more out of habit than anything, jumping on the window sill in a second and launching yourself of it in another. Landing on the roof you hesitated from making another sound, flattening yourself out on the wood. If someone was indeed staying up here, you certainly didn't want to be caught in their room on your first day. You heard the person shuffle around before the footsteps finally stopped. Allowing yourself to let out the breath you've been holding you still didn't move. 

"Y'know, if you didn't wanna be caught, ya shouldn't have left your beer on the window sill, Sheila," you heard a so far unfamiliar voice and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. What a rookie mistake. For a second you froze before you finally robbed forward a few inches, looking down. "Quick one, aren't you though?", the man spoke again, not even bothering to look up as he leaned on the window sill, his slouch hat shielding his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the slow progression. If you catch any mistakes - please let me know. English isn't my first language so yeah. Same goes for the characters. Pretty much my first time writing canon-characters and if they seem too OOC, please feel free to let me know. (Learning experience and so on :D)


End file.
